This Is For (Y is for Yes)
by FortySevens
Summary: A series of mostly unconnected one-shots based on self-generated 1word prompts. Y is for Yes: "So what is this?" She glanced down her nose. "One of those 'make a left turn at this corner at this specific time on this specific day and all will be revealed' kind of thing? Because I don't know if I actually believe in that, and these days, I'm pretty damn open minded."


**Y is for Yes (Clint/Darcy, Darcy & Darcy)**

Of all damn things, she wrote the prophecy in sure, even print on one side of a flimsy white napkin.

It rested innocently in the middle of the spackled Formica table at the empty diner she'd been asked to meet her at—a text that somehow came from her own cell phone number.

Taking a deep breath, Darcy Lewis reached out for the napkin, the tips of her fingers brushing against the side of it when a hand from the woman sitting on the other side of the table stopped her.

She arched a brow, "So what is this?" She glanced down her nose. "One of those 'make a left turn at this corner at this specific time at this specific day and all will be revealed' kind of thing? Because I don't know if I actually believe in that, and these days, I'm pretty damn open minded."

A Darcy Lewis—maybe a decade older, with a small scar under her right eye and the marks of long healed burns wrapped around the outstretched hand and wrist—let out a quiet giggle, "God you're cute," she rested her chin on the palm of her other hand. "I think I've forgotten how it was like to be like you. I might even miss it a little."

Blinking, Darcy drew her hand back, "Am I," the frown on her face deepened in its intensity as she tested her words before saying them, even if she sounded really silly when they passed her lips. "Am I hitting on myself?"

The older Darcy's raspy laughter echoed through the room, the florescent lights masking the dark, rainy night outside, "While that would probably make for a very interesting experiment, I can say that I'm not exactly looking for a relationship right now," she lines around her eyes crinkled. "And also, I'm very, very straight."

Still feeling more than a little uneasy, Darcy pasted a smirk on her face and toyed with the straw in her half-empty soda, "Nice to know some things don't, well _won't_, change."

A silence fell over their corner of the diner as the other Darcy sobered and looked down at her hands, the fingers of her right hand playing over the scars on her left, "Well I'm actually hoping that quite a few things might."

Swallowing hard, a pair of identical gazes fell back to the napkin, "I don't know," Darcy murmured, thought about reaching out again, but let her hand fall back down to the tabletop with a clunk. "I've seen a lot of shitty science fiction movies to know how badly this can go if I can see what's going to happen."

After checking her watch for what might have been the fifth time since they sat down twenty minutes ago, the older Darcy shook her head, "That's not what you're in for, my dear."

"Why me?" Darcy met her double's pale blue eyes, looking for answers in them but finding none. "I'm not special. Why would they, _whoever_ they are, send _you_, and why would they send you to _me_?"

A sad smile crossed her lips, and for the first time, Darcy noticed another small scar on the corner of her mouth, and _what_ in the world had she gone through in this mysterious future of hers?

"You're a lot more important than you think, Darcy Lewis," she said after a minute. "And it took me a long time to figure that out. Too long."

Her watch beeped, and she slipped out of the booth, pausing at Darcy's side and reaching out with her burn-scarred hand, squeezing Darcy's shoulder gently, "Don't make the same mistakes I did. _Please_."

"But what mistakes did you _make_?"

Darcy's question went unanswered as the other woman slipped away, the heels of her boots tapping against the tile, and Darcy stared blankly down at the napkin as the bell over the front door chimed as it opened, and then again when it closed.

Eventually, she wrapped her fingers around the napkin, staring at the scar-free skin on her own body, and she made sure she couldn't see the words scribbled over the bottom side.

She carefully folded it in half, and then one more time before finally looking down at the little white square she held tight between two fingers.

When she woke up that morning, after a long day of work with Jane and Bruce, and then dinner with Pepper and Thor, bizarre enough for a woman from a no-name town in eastern Washington, she never imagined that she'd hear from some futuristic incarnation of _herself_.

And she _really_ didn't expect to have her destiny—such as it may or may not be—thrown right in her face.

As if one decision that she could make, influenced by words sketched out on a _napkin_ of all things, would really change her life, could help her help the Avengers save the world.

How was this her life?

"Was that your sister?"

Startled, Darcy's heart stuttered in her chest as she knocked her cup over, clear soda spilling across the table, "Shit," she grabbed for the other napkins, yanking a handful out of the dispenser and patting them over the mess. "Sorry, sorry."

The waitress smiled thinly as she grabbed the cup and pulled a rag from her apron, swiping ice and the rest of the mess away, "No problem, dear. Sorry I startled you. Can I get you anything else?"

The thought of eating made her stomach turn, "No thanks. What do I owe you?"

"A five will cover your drinks."

She dug a ten out of her wallet and handed it over, "Thanks. Keep the change."

With the napkin still clenched tight in her hand, Darcy scuttled out of the diner and into the cool, damp night, stuffing her hands in the pockets of her leather jacket as she looked around before turning right, back toward Stark Tower.

Up on the roof of the diner, Darcy wrapped her fingers around the scarf draped around her neck, which covered the scars that spread over her collarbone, and she propped one foot on the ledge, watching her younger counterpart disappear around the corner.

"Do you think it'll work?"

Flinching, she glanced over her shoulder, saw a woman with dark red hair tied in a high ponytail standing a few feet behind her, and she smiled thinly, "I sure as hell hope it does. What other choice do we have?" She sighed. "Choice. I had one of those once. Chose wrong."

"Well here's to hoping she makes the right choice."

She stepped up next to Darcy and looked out into the glittering night, "You know, you can always stay here, disappear. No one would blame you for not going back to at hell."

Darcy arched a brow, "What in the world are you talking about Natasha? You're going back, I'm going back, and we're _going_ to fix this. We'll find a way to make it better."

"There's nothing left for you there."

"And there's nothing for me here either," she sighed, the skyline so different from the one she was used to. "This isn't my world. These people just don't deserve to go through what we have."

Natasha sighed, "You've lost more than most."

"We've _all_ lost things, _people_, that matter to us. Doesn't make me special. Doesn't mean I can just _leave_."

One shoulder lifted, "Hey, I was just asked to make the offer."

Her eyes were wide, "Who in the _world_ told you to ask me _that_?"

Natasha looked away, her hands dug deeper in her pockets, and Darcy rolled her eyes and scoffed, "Oh dear lord, tell the Cap I'm not the starry-eyed waif I was when the planet fell. We're all soldiers now."

"Sam just worries, you know that."

Rubbing a hand over her eyes, she shook her head, and then reached into the back pocket of her jeans and pulled out a flat metal remote, flipping it back upright on her palm, "Let's go. It's time you and I move along."

Natasha turned with her, head tilted, "You don't want to wait and see what happens? We have time."

"Not remotely," she took a deep breath and held the remote in white-knuckled fingers. "No."

"Hey," Natasha reached out and curled her hand around Darcy's elbow. "You okay?"

She clicked a button on the remote and a swirling blue portal opened up in front of them, "I'll be fine," she tossed a strained smile onto her face, pocketed the remote and pulled a sidearm from the holster concealed at her back by her layered jackets, watched out of the corner of her eye as Natasha did the same. "Come on. We've got to move."

Ensconced in the heat of the building, Darcy unzipped her jacket as she stepped on the elevator, the tiny square napkin still clenched tight in her right hand, "Hey J, can you take me up to the common level?"

The elevator was already moving, "Of course. Did you have a pleasant walk, Ms. Lewis?"

"Well it was interesting," she barked a laugh that was a little hysterical. "I need a drink."

"You're in luck then, as Sir has just had the bar restocked."

She grinned wide, "My night is complete."

"Careful, it's still early."

Not that she needed tom, her eyes flicked up to the top of the car, "Has Stark been playing with your programming again?"

"Maybe a little."

The common level was quiet and the living room was empty, and Darcy exhaled heavily as she stepped in, dropping her jacket on the arm of the couch before she padded over to the bar by the floor-to-ceiling windows.

She rooted through the bottles, arching a brow at the new selections of whiskey that Tony had added before she grabbed an already opened bottle of Jack, a bottle of Malibu, and ducked under the refrigerator for a diet Coke.

The drink was probably a little heavy on the Jack and the Malibu, but Darcy didn't really care all that much as she replayed her meeting with _herself_ over and over and over in her mind.

She still couldn't bring herself to read the words on the napkin, which now rested on the counter next to the racked glasses.

"Hey Darcy."

Startling a little, she put her glass back down on the counter and looked across the room at Clint, who looked fresh from a very long nap and shower, "Hey, welcome back," an easy grin crossed her face as some of the tightness in her chest loosened. "How was the deal in that country that ends in –stan that I'm not supposed to know about?"

Hands stuffed in his pockets, he shrugged and made his way over, easing onto a stool on the other side of the bar, "Classified."

"That good, huh?" She nudged her glass across the granite with the tips of her fingers. "Alcohol, alcohol, and a tiny bit of soda. You want?"

"Nah, I'm good," he nudged it back, arching a brow at the long drag she took from it. "Everything all right with you, Darce?"

The idea of actually telling him what happened—telling anyone really—kind of made her feel sick, but that could have been the alcohol too, "Weird night, full moon, you know how it is," she said as breezily as she could muster.

He looked at her for a long minute before rolling his eyes, "_Sure_."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Clint drumming his fingers against the countertop, "Hey Darcy."

"Yeah?" She looked up from contemplating the ice cubes in her glass and how perfectly round they were and what did Tony even do to the ice machine to make them come out that way, and saw him looking at her pretty intently. "What's up?"

"You want to go out tomorrow night?" He shifted on his stool a little, pushed his shoulders back as he went on. "Grab a bite to eat, maybe catch a movie or something?"

She blinked owlishly, "You talking a little team bonding, or-"

Flinching a little, Clint rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, his ears turning red, "Ah, no. Just you and me, maybe if you're up for it?"

"Yes," she twitched a little at how quickly the word came out of her mouth, and then realized that she _did_ want to. "Yes."

Clint grinned, "Awesome. Seven?"

"You might have to take it up with my boss," she grinned. "Speaking of, I kind of left her in the lab when I went out a couple hours ago, and I'm pretty sure she's still there. Want to help me drag her back into the real world?"

Tapping his hand against the countertop, Clint shifted off the stool, "Let's do it."

From the opposite entrance to the living room, Pepper smiled as she watched them walk away and made her way over to the bar, grabbed Darcy's abandoned drink and sniffed at it before she shrugged and took a delicate sip.

She put the bottles back up, and then noticed the half-folded napkin resting on the countertop.

With one delicate eyebrow arched, she unfolded it with one hand and smoothed her fingers over the words, a smile spreading across her face as she looked down at the note Darcy scribbled.

_Just say yes_.

**Some Years Later**

On a sunny day in early summer, Darcy sat on a bench in Central Park, eyes focused on the book in her hand, and she didn't look up when someone sat down at the opposite end from her perch.

"So," a very familiar voice said. "You took my advice. I'm glad."

Darcy fumbled with the book before snapping it shut and pressing it against her thigh, eyes wide as she looked over, "Oh, you again," she swallowed hard and took a second to get her breathing under control. "Actually, uh, I never read the note. It kinda disappeared."

The older Darcy, still scarred and wearing the same jeans, scarf, and jackets from their first meeting all those years ago, arched a brow, "Really."

She shrugged, looking out to the grassy dog run where Clint was wrestling with Lucky, "I got distracted," she thought back to that night, smiled at the memories of the night that followed. "Was asked out on a date."

"And you said?"

Looking fondly at Clint as he rolled onto his stomach and let Lucky jump on his back, his paws batting at his head, she looked back at her older counterpart, "Well obviously I said yes," she tilted her head at the look on Darcy's face. "What? You checking up on me?"

Darcy grinned, "I had a free minute, thought I'd drop by."

"Where are you even from? Or is the question supposed to be _when_?"

Her grin widened, and she pulled a pair of mirrored sunglasses from the inner pocket of one jacket and slid them over the bridge of her nose, "Oh no, _where_ is probably more appropriate. But like I said, I was just in the neighborhood."

She shook her head, her hair falling over her bare shoulders, "And you're checking in because?"

"Just because."

Darcy shot a look over to Clint, who was very much occupied with the one-eyed dog, and shifted to face her older counterpart, one leg bent at the knee and resting on the bench, "How are _you_ doing?"

Looking down at her hands, she rubbed her fingers over her scars, and then met Darcy's gaze and smiled, "I'm helping people. It's good, getting better," she stood up, nodded her head toward Clint. "You've got a good one there. _Enjoy_ it."

"I am," Darcy tapped her fingers against the cover of the book, resisting the urge to stand, ask her to stay and answer the million questions buzzing through her mind. "Am I ever going to see you again?"

"Probably not."

She sighed, "At least I know I'm still hot when I'm Clint's age."

Darcy reached out and tapped her shoulder, "Like there was any doubt."

With another nod, Darcy walked off, and Darcy watched her older counterpart go, watched her curl an arm around the shoulders of a woman standing in the shadows, and she was pretty sure she saw a glimmer of red hair in the sunlight before they disappeared.

"Hey Darce!"

She looked back over to Clint, who was now sitting with a panting Lucky sprawled across his lap, "Yeah?"

"I'm getting hungry. Want to grab a pretzel?"

Grabbing her book and her bag, she hopped off the bench, "Yes. Definitely."


End file.
